Memories of the Living
by InsaneKAT
Summary: Tsuna's 'death' in the eyes of different people. TYL. Written for Sawada's birthday. Slight torture and insanity.


**AN. **Extremely crappy fic for Sawada's birthday.

This turned out really odd, but I don't care. So as long as it's on. Man, I'm in a crappy mood today. It's 00:20 here in Shanghai and I want to get this over with.

Completely different note (CDN): The TV is ranting about Steve Jobs. I mourn for him. No more iStuff. Also, I noticed that Pop-tarts taste _way _too sweet. I know I have a sweet tooth, but half a packet is still too much for me. I blame my mom's friend for being the I-buy-what-I-feel-like-buying type. Geez.

**Title: **Nothing to say about it.

**Timeline/setting: **Setting varies. Timeline is TYL. Future arc never existed.

**Point of view: **Varies.

**Mistakes: **Point them out to me, kay? This took, like, an hour to write, and I'm too tired to care. Just place in a review. Oh, and don't point out on how crappy this is. I already know.

**Language/rating: **Not much. Slight insanity in Byakuran's part, nothing much.

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own the characters of Katekyo Hitman Reborn. All belongs to Akira Amano apart from the plot.

So if you don't mind… I'll be off

**MEMORIES OF THE LIVING**

All he could see was black.

It was to be expected, though. One does not expect to see much when rendered immobile by several restraints and encased in a glass cylinder. But when one is unable to move under unnatural forces, their minds speed up, unless their consciousness had been lost somewhere along the way.

Well, in this case, dear readers, our great friend Sawada Tsunayoshi had been encased in a glass cylinder in a half-dead state. The half that was alive was his mind, though it no longer had control over the body, which had been presumably 'dead'.

Tsuna had found out that, though one could find absolute peace in the small world their brains created for their consciousness to reside in, he was probably going to die of _worry_ than from actual physical matter or force.

-KHR-

Dino felt utterly horrible.

Vongola Decimo had disappeared a week before, along with the Vongola rings. All the guardians were sent on their each respective missions, each coming back with another injury and more bad news about the Millefiore. Reborn had been confined to his hospital bed from radiation, and the other Arcobaleno had been dropping like flies.

When Reborn died, he felt a little bit of him die along with the Sun Arcobaleno. Sure, he was a sadist and a torturer, but it still hurt. He had led Dino to where he stands in the mafia underworld.

their Cloud Guardian _had _to spoil the entire thing by calling them into the meeting room and telling them a simple phrase that completely turned their lives around. _Sawada. Tsunayoshi. Is. Dead. _

And then he turned and left everyone there. The freak hadn't even looked mournful.

It was all too much for him. After he received the news, he locked himself in a closet and refused to come out, crying his eyes out with a bottle of mineral water and a bunch of various cleaning utensils as comfort. He's still there.

-KHR-

The guardians weren't in any better shape than Dino was.

Gokudera had been stopped by a half-hearted Yamamoto from hanging himself several times. The rope was still hanging from his ceiling, as if taunting his procrastination.

Yamamoto himself wasn't looking too great, with bloody bandages around his wrists and bags under his eyes from sleepless nights and grief.

Ryohei had refused to talk to anyone and was starving himself in the boxing room.

Chrome locked herself in her own room, crying on a half-transparent illusion of Mukuro. She didn't have enough will to even create one that felt real. All she wanted was to remind herself that there was still Mukuro-sama. Imprisoned, yes, but at least alive.

Hibari was in an exceptionally bad mood and had wrecked the entire training room with his tonfas alone. Add Roll into the image and you have one very destroyed training room. Those servants that were not traumatized by the news of the Vongola boss's death were cleaning up the wreckage.

Lambo tried to look nonchalant and brave, but he would break down when he is alone. The vulnerable state he was in was really getting to him strongly.

Slowly, the Vongola Guardians were crumbling, being eaten inside out with their each respective emotions. Hibari, frustration (and a little guilt, though he refused to admit it); Gokudera, despair and irresponsibility from failing to protect his boss; Yamamoto, deep agony at the loss of a great friend; Ryohei, failure as an elder brother; Lambo, vulnerability at the loss of brotherly protection and comfort; Chrome, melancholia because of the care his boss had given her.

-KHR-

_Happy birthday, trash. _Xanxus thought as he poured another helping of Russia Vodka.

Lussuria had received a call that morning by a very traumatized Gokudera, half-sobbing about the death of Sawada. Tch. Somehow, the word must have gotten to the guardians after the he received the letter. Stupid Sawada.

Of course, the Varia still went on with their daily business, with the exception of Lussuria, who was still sulking on some dusty sofa, and the fact that the mansion was a little more quieter than usual. The Vongola rings had been torn apart, piece by piece, with immense difficulty, and then the pieces were buried somewhere under the earth. The shield and gem set in the metal had been chained carefully by Mammon Chains and taken to some unnamed sea by an underling.

Said underling had ended up as shark food by a certain Squalo's shark after he returned. Nobody knows where he had thrown those shields. Hopefully, nobody will.

Somehow, the death of Sawada had reached his guardian's ears on the exact same day of his birthday. Stupid trash. Always ruining people's day.

Lussuria also said that Reborn had (finally) died. It might not have any effect any of them, but it _does _affect Vongola. Now that the two aces are gone, Vongola would be on extremely unstable ground. It's almost pathetic – the world's strongest mafia (now second strongest to Millefiore), falling apart because of two people. Sure they weren't _normal _people, but they were people nonetheless.

Xanxus downed his vodka and reached for the wine bottle, only to find that it was empty. Already? He only remembered getting a few helpings…

"VOOOOI!" Came the ever-present yell of a certain enraged swordsman.

The door was flung open, and Squalo marched in, this time with both uniform _and _hair dripping wet. "DAMN THIS FRIKIN' RAIN!"

Well, nobody said that being a rain guardian had anything to do with liking rain. Squalo despised any type of liquid in his hair and uniform, since they would, when wet, cling to him rather irritatingly.

Xanxus threw the wine bottle at his second-in-command. It was lucky that it wasn't full, or else Squalo's vocabulary would have a wider range and have… some rather colorful choices. But, no matter what, Squalo was still pissed off.

"WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT FOR!"

"Tell me why you're here, trash, or your big head won't be so lucky this time."

Squalo shut his mouth abruptly, then snapped it open to start complaining again. But Xanxus wasn't listening. And he wasn't just plainly ignoring Squalo.

Xanxus had never doubted Vongola's future, and he didn't want to start now. But he couldn't help but notice that it looked plenty bad.

-KHR-

A white-haired man with a violet tattoo under one eye lounged leisurely on one of several white fluffy sofas placed neatly around his private office. Really, it was more of a snack area than a private office, but Byakuran's men knew better than to say that out loud.

"Sawada… Tsunayoshi…" He muttered. "Vongola Decimo…"

He started to laugh. It started off small and quiet, something akin to giggling, but then rose in volume until he was practically roaring, body practically _shaking_ with joy and anticipation. There was nothing cheerful and lighthearted in those laughs, just hunger and greed.

"Finally!" He shouted to the white ceiling above.

-KHR-

For once, Yamamoto didn't care.

The razor felt _right _in his hands, and every cut that broke through his skin also started to break into his sanity. His mind was slipping. His body and soul were slipping. And for once, he didn't care. No one was there to stop him – they were all in their own little worlds of denial and shock.

The swordsmen sat in the middle of the training room, a dissected penknife sitting innocently beside him. One of the razors was missing from the blade.

"Tsuna…"

Another cut was made, blood flowing freely from the wounds like the tears from his eyes. Then he decided that there wasn't enough pain, and started to reach for his trusty sword.

Why did he die? How can he be _dead? _

He refused to believe so.

-KHR-

He loved his piano. He really did.

But in situations like this, he really didn't know if he loved it or if it was just something to cry with.

Gokudera sat at a snow white grand piano in the middle of the empty hall, the familiar keys feeling as cold as ice beneath his fingertips as his hands danced across them with the usual grace. His knuckles were still bleeding from his last attempt of breaking down his bedroom wall just to satisfy the denial eating away at his heart, and the blood was still flowing, staining the keys red.

-KHR-

Chrome tried. She really did. But it wasn't her fault that she cried easily, just… blame it on her nature.

The mist illusion of Mukuro shimmered and dissolved irregularly, only to solidify again. Her missing eye bled crimson tears, tear glands not used to such strain.

Her owl sat beside her, shuffling its feathers restlessly as it tried to make itself comfortable beside Chrome. However, it wasn't too easy falling asleep when your kind-of master is sobbing the world out beside you. So, after a few minutes of (completely futile) adjusting, it decided to return to its box and sleep in peace. Sure, it was worried, since box animals take after their masters, but he really just _had _to get some peace.

-KHR-

Irie Shoichi was tearing his hair out. Which was not quite unusual for a kid like him. The red-head would tear his hair out over any type of situation it's a miracle he wasn't bald yet. He hadn't just let the matter go. He still fretted over Vongola. Tsuna was taking the one-in-a-hundred risk for once and endangering his friends for the sake of the world and their future.

He turned the volume knob up another notch.


End file.
